Chapter 9
Skinning the Cat
Bad things happen. Usually they happen to good people, people who don't deserve to be hurt. Then again, sometimes fate steps in, or rather on, those who deserve it the most.
In this instance, a certain ghost seemed intent on aiming fate's step, and seemed even more intent on using Jack Sparrow as the boot.
The trio of friends sat for a minute, contemplating the strangeness of the situation placed before them (though admittedly it wasn't as strange as battling indestructible skeletal pirates). When it had been a choice, Anamaria felt compelled to set out into the school and bring to task the man who intended to end her life for the sake of a teaching tool. Now with the choice taken away and turned into a threat, Anamaria felt distinctly different about the situation.
Honestly, she wanted to be outwardly sympathetic and girly and show concern for Jack's welfare, but Anamaria simply had to admit to herself that she wasn't built that way. She did feel concern, she felt like a big knotted cord of rigging was lodged in her belly at the thought of her Captain being coerced in such a way; but the action this bred within her ran more towards bloodletting than nursing.
"This Morris Ettie ye've been looking f'r, he was a friend o' yers?" With no corporeal enemy to tackle, Anamaria felt at a loss as to what to do, and so she made do by attacking with words.
Jack glared at her in response.
But that glare held a hint of the fire she loved seeing in his eyes. Leave the coddling to the likes of blacksmith whelps; Anamaria knew that when the sea stirred with storm, it wasn't a soft hand that held the ship steady. Jack stood up, he moved slowly and Anamaria understood he probably still felt somewhat off balance by the whole possession thing.
"Ask yer ghost if you've gotta be the one t' do the killing." Anamaria demanded.
She waited an entire count to three for an answer and then continued. "Ask 'im if 'e even knows 'o it is 'e wants murdered."
Another count to three. "Ask 'im if 'e 'as a preference as t' how 'e wants the bastard killed."
Overall, this now equalled a count of nine, and her tolerance was wearing thin.
"Enough already." Jack rolled his eyes and pointed a finger at her in a show of exasperation. "If yer thinking I'm about to have a bloody conversation with- uh, just a moment." He stopped and stared up at the ceiling. "Fine." He looked to Anamaria, and to Will, then back to Anamaria again. "If ye must know, 'e don't care how or by who it gets done, so long as it does get done."
Anamaria watched closely as Jack yet again looked up at the ceiling, and she found herself cautiously following his gaze up towards whatever he was staring at. Nothing was there of course, but a quick glance to the side revealed Will staring in the same direction, so at least she didn't feel stupid alone.
"Actually."
Anamaria jumped a bit as Jack once again spoke to her and Will.
The pirate scratched a bit at the uncomfortable fit of his borrowed clothing, and then continued. "Actually, 'e prefers gutting with a bit of disembowelment for good measure. However, any kind of death'll do just fine. Thanks for asking."
Will continued staring up at the ceiling where Jack had been staring only moments before, and now Jack followed Will's gaze up in that direction while frowning slightly, trying to see what Will was so intent on looking at.
"You can hear him?" Will asked.
"Can you?" Jack answered. "What're ye lookin' at?"
Jack didn't wait for Will to respond; instead, he swept past to the not-so-hidden door in the wall leading out into the room beyond.
"D' ye know where yer goin', Jack?" Anamaria called after. He appeared to know where he was going, but then again that could be the look indicating the exact opposite, seeing as whenever he wore that look, it was directly preceding getting well and truly lost.
With one foot out the door, Jack stopped and turned back. "Aye. Sure, I got a map and a sketch of exactly where and who, and a set of plans leading us through this bloody maze of a house."
"You do?" Anamaria smirked at the long-suffering sigh Jack released in response to that question before disappearing the rest of the way through the door. She walked out after him and nearly walked right into his back.
"Seems we won't be needing a map afterall, eh?" Jack stood looking at a balding, fat little man with spectacles perched on the end of his nose. "And so this would be the man in charge of it all, eh?"
'Eh? Who are you?" With a voice soaked in cultured British accent, the fat little man looked ready to faint or run. Anamaria wasn't sure which. "You don't work here!" Somehow aristocratic British accents didn't sound nearly so impressive once they were reduced to little more than a squeak.
"You are sure this is him?" Will's hand hovered just over his sword hilt. "Found him kind of easily, didn't we?"
"Seeing as our esteemed demon is currently screeching 'kill him, kill him' loud enough that I can scarcely hear o'er it, I've got a hunch this would be our man." Jack squinted a bit as he walked around to block the only other door out of the room. "And it would be really nice if said demon could STOP SCREAMING FOR JUST A MINUTE so that I can go about doing said killing!"
A minute of shocked silence passed following Jack's outburst.
"Kill who? Kill me?" The fat little brit, Anamaria could barely think of him as anything more threatening than that, seemed to dance between one foot and another. Oddly enough, Jack's talk about demons didn't worry their quarry one bit.
Recovering from the tantrum, Jack's voice returned to its normal mocking tone. "How do you feel 'bout going up against live pirates for a change, mate?"
"I- I- what do you mean pirates? I don't know any pirates! I swear, I've never even seen a pirate before."
"Not any live ones, at least." Jack muttered.
The strange little dance continued, and everyone involved seemed to be in a bit of a shock at the lack of sense in the scene around them. If no one else was going to come out and explain the situation to the Doctor, she might as well do so. "We're here cause of the people ye've been buying off the street for yer school. People ye've been killin' in order t' cut 'em up and stare at their insides."
"I don't know any pirates!" The little man cried again. "I don't know any dead pirates or formerly alive ones either."
How could this be the diabolical mastermind in charge of killing so many innocent people?
"You do run this school, don't you?" Jack asked.
"Yes, yes, this is my school, yes; the only one like it in the Caribbean. But I don't have any pirates, I swear."
"Hmm. So where do the bodies come from I wonder?"
The little man stopped dancing for a moment. "You mean the teaching cadavers? But they're all dead. They weren't pirates! They were just… oh." Realisation must have finally dawned. "But they were destitute and living on the street. I brought a purpose to their lives by offering them a death with meaning, a death by which they are helping others more privileged than them selves!"
Anamaria, Jack, and Will, all looked at each other for a moment with utter bewilderment, and Anamaria wondered what to do from here. Ending a man's life in self-defence was one thing; however this pathetic example standing in front of them offered no immediate threat. Undoubtedly he was the one doing the killings, and for that he deserved to die. But, to kill this man here and now would be no more than an execution.
"Do I recognise you?" The Doctor stared at Anamaria and scrunched up his eyebrows. "Are you the pregnant girl I bought this morning?"
"Pregnant?" Anamaria asked. She noticed then that Jack and Will were staring at her with the same kind of expectant look. "You were gonna kill me, thinking I'm with child?" To hell with the execution, maybe she'd take Morris Ettie's suggestion to gut and disembowel the bastard right here and now.
"Are ye?" Jack asked.
"Am I what?" She advanced on the doctor, going through a mental checklist of suitable deaths. Execution be damned, this was no worse than extermination.
"Are ye pregnant?" Jack asked.
"WHAT?" That diverted her attention, and in that distraction, the doctor dived behind his desk. He popped up seconds later with a pistol perilously gripped with trembling hands.
Just as Anamaria wondered if things could get any worse, there came a forceful knock at the door. Before Jack could stop it from opening, the door swung inwards and Commodore Norrington strode inside.
In addition, the doctor, already in the midst of a nervous breakdown, started to hyperventilate, and his fingers tightened just a little more over the trigger.
Author Note: Another chapter, funny that it takes me weeks to update and this chapter was written in a day, revised with amazing Julie's help the next day (the good parts are hers the mistakes are my own). Thanks to trappedandannoyed for the shove to get me going. Hate to lose a loyal reviewer, haha.
Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far!!!!!!! The story is still standing, though there are times I am not. The world is shifting over here in Rat-land and I'm doing my best to avoid falling through one of the crevices. Though jumping in may be a good idea, you never know where it could lead… might be fun! hmm. TTFN!